antebellum [t. riddle]

lx

february 1945

when tom knocked at her door the following morning, she did not answer. he wasn't really expecting her to. she always avoided him when she was upset, though he was only slightly confused.

he had anticipated she would be angry with him over his proposed macusa quid pro quo when he planned it, but it seemed that there were more layers to the situation, and because she was avoiding him, he had no way to figure it out.

he replayed the day over and over again in his mind, trying to figure out the moment when things had started to go awry.

was she upset that he had kissed her? that didn't make much sense in his mind— they had already established that they mutually enjoyed kissing each other. perhaps it was more about the circumstances of the kiss rather than the actual kiss itself.

but what else? that couldn't possibly be it.

he'd just have to ask her.

when she was gone, he zeroed in on the sensations of her. he felt when her heartrate randomly spiked in the middle of the nights. he could practically feel her paranoia scratching at the inside of her skull.

he observed her during their shared classes, as she chose to sit with thomas or abraxas instead of him.

tom wondered if she knew.

he needed to tread more lightly. what if one day, she finally had enough? or if she decided that none of this was worth it?

this new sensation that sicaria evoked in him— anxiety, perhaps— was quite possibly the most miserable experience he'd ever had. he couldn't imagine how he had gotten so attached to another person that he felt almost physically ill thinking about her.

he didn't let himself dwell on the future. the prospect of her leaving and never returning—

ah, there it was. that anxiety again.

so, in the meantime, he focused himself on something tangentially related to her. war. he familiarized himself with every recorded piece of writing on the subject. photographs, historical memoirs, obituaries, and newspaper archives. most of what he could get ahold of was in the school library, and thought it was a plethora of information, most of it wasn't all that relevant to the upcoming situation.

he couldn't make his next move until she made her decision, and right now, he was currently unable to predict which choice she'd make.

•••

"sicaria!"

"what?" sicaria had been in the farthest, most secluded corner of the library, reading over every note she had made about the nine members of the auror recruitment office in the department of magical law enforcement. the office had downsized since the start of the war, mostly because since they had lowered the requirements in order to add more people to the ranks against grindelwald, they had no need for thorough background checks. almost anyone who applied was enlisted through a program called the rapid-response to current events act of 1930.

"you're angry with riddle right now," lestrange said, appearing before her, staring confused at the pages before her. they looked blank to him, because only sicaria could see the words she had written.

"i am, yes."

adonis leaned against the bookshelf in front of her. "are you upset with us as well?"

she turned the page, not looking up at the two. "that depends. did you know about it?"

there was a lengthy silence. she could practically hear them mouthing words to each other.

"that depends," adrien finally responded. "what specifically are you angry at him about?"